


A Christmas Auld Lang Syne

by alyjude_sideburns



Category: The Sentinel
Genre: Christmas, First Time, Holidays, M/M, Post-Series, Secret Santa
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-22
Updated: 2014-01-22
Packaged: 2018-01-09 00:07:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,785
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1139100
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alyjude_sideburns/pseuds/alyjude_sideburns
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Blair has left Cascade, but is missing Jim during the holidays.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Christmas Auld Lang Syne

**Author's Note:**

> This was written for the 2006 TS Secret Santa gift exchange. Happy Holidays, Lit Gal!

**A Christmas Auld Lang Syne by alyjude**

 

 

_//"When mistletoe and tinsel glow_  
Paint a yuletide valentine  
Back home I go to those I know  
For a Christmas auld lang syne"--Marc Anthony//

It's not as though they weren't still friends--they were. Good friends. Best friends. "Do or die, love you forever (in a strictly brotherly--and very manly--way, of course), even though we're miles away from each other" best friends. So what if two or three states separated them? Isn't that what cell phones and email were all about? Hell, hadn't they just watched a game together, thanks to AIM chat? You bet.

But… it wasn't the same. Nothing was.

Blair looked around his small apartment and could finally, two weeks before Christmas, and six months after making it, admit his decision had been a mistake. A big one.

Or the right one.

He'd never know now. Never know if he could have made it as a cop, could have survived the academy and the cadets and their looks and whispers. He'd never know if he could have pulled a gun and used it; let alone succeed as Jim's partner.

He hadn't run away--exactly. He's simply turned down the offer with a reasonable explanation; one neither Jim nor Simon could argue, and then he'd started looking for a job. After eight weeks, he'd remained jobless and at a point where he was completely penniless. So he'd done the only reasonable thing: he'd expanded his search to other cities--near-by at first, but when that didn't work, he'd moved his hunt even further from Cascade. And finally, three months and two weeks after his fateful press conference, one of his many applications had received a nibble. Unfortunately, it was the one he'd sent to a small museum in Santa Ana, California. A museum that specialized in the Mayan culture and exhibits. It was the only application that had netted him an interview. The only one after weeks and weeks of trying.

He'd had no choice, really. He'd told Jim that night and, two days later, flew down to Southern California. His interview had gone so well that they'd offered him the job on the spot and, with a heavy heart, he'd accepted.

And with an even heavier one, he'd broken the news to Jim upon his return. In the airport, actually….

_//"Long time, no see," Jim said with a grin as Blair opened the truck door and tossed his overnight bag on the floor._

_"Two whole days, man. Two whole days." Blair slid into the seat and, after buckling the seatbelt, asked, "Did you close the Murphy case like you'd hoped?"_

_Jim checked traffic and, when clear, pulled away from the curb and into the airport flow. "Yeah, but not before it got a bit scary. Janet Murphy discovered she might still love her husband after all, which gave the DA a few hours in hell."_

_"Damn, yeah. She was the case--her testimony critical."_

_"Yep."_

_"So what did Beverly do?"_

_"She brought in the mistress, let her see her husband with the woman, then brought the husband into an interview room with Janet and let them go at it. Husband said a few things he definitely shouldn't have and that was that. But Bev was close to losing it before her case righted itself."_

_"I bet. You all worked hard on it--"_

_"You helped, Chief. Even from home, you helped. We never would have thought we could turn Mrs. Murphy and I still don't know how you knew."_

_Blair waved off the compliment but before he could say anything, Jim asked, "You going to tell me how it went?"_

_"It went… well. They… uhm… they actually offered me the job at the conclusion of the interview. And yeah, they know everything."_

_"I… see. So when do you start?"_

_"Two weeks from Monday. The director's sister owns an apartment complex around the corner from the museum and there's a studio apartment available so… I'm kind of set."_

_Jim shot him a look before returning his attention back to the road. "I… well, that's great, Chief. So… two weeks, then?"_

_"Actually, I'll head down next week--that'll give me a week to settle in, get the lay of the land, so to speak. I'll need to buy a few things so maybe you could check with Bobby, up in Burglary and see if he's still interested in the Volvo?"_

_"Whoa, wait a minute, Sandburg. You're going to need a car in--where is it again?"_

_"Santa Ana. Orange County. And I won't really, not for awhile. Walking distance to the museum, great transit system and excellent weather, you know?"_

_"Look, you're taking the Volvo and that's it. I'll float you a loan which you can pay back over time once you start receiving that paycheck, all right? Whatever you need, we'll take care of up here, do the whole U-Haul trailer hitch and I'll even drive down with you, help you get settled and fly back." He stole another look at his partner. "Do this for me--I'll feel better if I know you have everything you need and a car, okay?"_

_"Jim, I already owe you--"_

_"Nothing. You owe me nothing. But I'll owe you for a very long time--and don't get that look on your face. I'm not bringing it up again. I'm talking about years of helping me with my senses. I can never repay you for that."_

_"You **are** bringing it up because you know damn well that if things had been different, I'd have--"_

_"Okay, okay… I get it. Just… do this for me, please?"//_

Blair had done it for him. Jim had taken some vacation time and, after breaking the news to their friends--and following a going-away party Blair would remember the rest of his days--he and Jim had made the drive to California, a U-Haul attached to the Volvo and full of just about everything he'd need in the way of starting a new life in a new apartment.

An apartment that hadn't thrilled Jim one bit.

Blair had thought it quaint in spite of the fact that it was on a busy street that ended two blocks north at one of the largest malls in Orange County, The Main Place Mall. It was an old building, typical mix of early California and Spanish influences with wrought iron railings, big, heavy wooden front doors (the one thing Jim _had_ approved of) with small "peek" windows with little door latches. The apartment itself was nicely laid out but had definitely seen better days. The wood floor was scuffed and marred and the new paint job couldn't hide the few water leaks that had damaged the walls over the years. But overall, Blair figured it ranked near the top as one of his better living arrangements; the loft naturally taking top honors.

Jim had remained for four days.

The best and worst four days of Blair's life.

He was pretty sure that he and Jim had never had so much fun together; joking continually even as they unpacked and worked to make his new home habitable. The funny thing was that, technically, they finished up on day two; but Jim stayed two additional days, in spite of the fact that he had to sleep on the floor. On the morning of day five, Blair drove him to John Wayne Airport. They'd had to say good-bye on the sidewalk outside because Jim was just going to make his flight as it was. For the first time since knowing about the move, things had been awkward between them.

_//"Guess this is it," Blair said as he shifted from one foot to the other._

_"We're friends, Chief. Best friends. I'll come down, you'll come up, we'll fish, vacation together, the usual. And in between, we'll burn up the cell phone vibes and cyberspace with our manly chatter."_

_Blair's laughter was spontaneous and burst out of him in the kind of way that never failed to bring a genuine smile to Jim's face. He pulled Blair into his chest, tugged a curl and whispered, "Don't cut it, okay? And if you even think about it--call me first."//_

Silly conversation, Blair figured. The funny thing was--it had _almost_ been exactly as Jim had predicted. The almost part being that after those four days… there'd been no other visits. If it wasn't Jim's schedule, it was Blair's. But they called, chatted, and emailed.

None of which changed a damn thing.

Blair was still miserable. He missed Cascade, he missed Major Crime, he missed his little room under Jim's stairs and he missed Jim--with every fiber of his being.

Not surprising considering that at some point in the last three-plus years, he'd fallen in love with his partner.

He got up to turn the heat on.  It was, he'd been told, unseasonably cold for Southern California. As he cranked it up to a balmy seventy-five, he tried to pin down the moment he'd realized that he loved Jim; but came up empty handed. He really had no idea. On the way back to his futon, he grabbed the cream-colored throw off the lounger and pulled it around him like a cape, huddling under its warmth as he sat back down. He reached for the remote and clicked on the set. It was after eleven-thirty so maybe a bit of David Letterman and then bed. No work tomorrow--Saturday and all--so maybe he'd watch the entire show tonight. Sure, why the hell not. Wait, he needed something… oh, yeah, he needed popcorn. Had to watch Letterman with popcorn.

*****  
December 23rd

"Hey, Blair, did you have some of the sweet potato pie?" Gretchen asked as she almost danced past him.

"I did, two slices."

"It's a great party, isn't it?"

He had to admit, the Bowers Staff Christmas party was indeed, great. The museum restaurant, Topaz, had closed its doors at three that afternoon in order to host the party and, by six, the staff was walking into a holiday wonderland. Originally they'd planned for patio seating as well as seating inside, but the weather put the kibosh on that idea. In the last week, it had grown impossibly colder and everyone was telling Blair--every chance they got--that this was _not_ normal.  A few were even cracking jokes that should rain move in they'd have snow.  That was always met with laughter and at least one person saying, "But it never snows in Southern California" at which time someone else would say, "My grandmother told me it snowed in 1926".  Then everyone would be off and running on weather and the old jokes about parents who walked miles to school in rain, sleet and snow--just not in Southern California.

Blair spotted a table with several empty seats and wove a path toward it, his hands full of more food and a glass of champagne. Once there, he set his two small plates down before taking a seat. Wine glass still in hand, he sipped lazily while observing the room and his fellow workers. He liked his new job--didn't love it, but liked it. It kept his mind busy--and his hands--which was a very good thing. He worked most of the day alone and he liked that too; which was very different for him. He'd kept his distance since moving; preferring not to get too close to anyone. He was friendly, polite, but didn't delve into the lives of his co-workers the way he usually did. He didn't know their children, their histories, their schools. And, yes, he liked it that way.

He'd had a lifetime of getting too close only to….

Yes, well. He took another sip of the very nice, very dry champagne.

It would have been great if Jim could have made it down here for Christmas. It had been all planned, until a case they thought solved had blown up in their faces on Monday. Now he was stuck in Cascade--cold, snowy Cascade--instead of nice, cold, almost-snowy Santa Ana. Blair grinned over the rim of his glass. Of course, no matter how cold it got here--and right now it was a balmy forty-five degrees--it was colder still in Cascade. He'd checked before leaving his office and, according to Yahoo Weather, it was nineteen degrees in Cascade right now and supposed to dip below ten degrees. He'd take forty-five degrees any day of the week.

Except… he'd love nothing more than to be up there with Jim right now. Unfortunately, his work had kept him rooted to the museum. They'd just finished the set-up for a major show which opened on the twenty-sixth.  Since he'd done most of the work; developing the idea, getting permission to exhibit the very special Mayan pieces and setting up the exhibits, his presence was essential.  So, yeah, he'd been unable to join Jim.  Their first holiday apart--and it would remain apart.

Damn.

There was no hope for New Year's either. The huge and very swanky party celebrating the opening of the new exhibit was, yep, on New Year's Eve and he was expected to attend, obviously. And Jim was working, which meant New Year's football snarking would done on AIM.

"Oh, my God!"

The burst came from Lindsay Cohen, the young lady who ran the museum gift shop.  At the shocked words, Blair turned around to look at her, only to see her pointing back in his direction--and beyond. Swiveling around, Blair looked out the huge wall of windows to the courtyard outside… which was gradually turning… white.

Everyone began to move toward the two exits, one of which went directly outside, the other to the museum lobby and its exit onto the courtyard. Blair stayed put, preferring to enjoy the small white puffs that passed for snow in Santa Ana from inside. After all, it was warm, bright, cheery, and he had two plates full of delicious food. Nope, he wasn't budging.

With a half-smile on his face, he watched his co-workers first stand in wonder as the snow fell, but then relax and start to play in it. It only took six minutes by Blair's watch for the first pathetic excuse for a snowball to fly through the crisp, cold night air.

As miraculous as the snow was, his own reflection in the glass told him that he wasn't really there, that Santa Ana didn't exist at that moment. He was… home.

Home.

_… softly lit loft, shades up so he and Jim could enjoy the sight of their city, festive and adorned in bright red and green lights, some winking a Merry Christmas and Happy Hanukkah, while others remained still and steadfast. He held a hot toddy in his hand, as did Jim, and both were in jeans and warm holiday-ish sweaters. Comfortable and lazy, Jim had his long legs stretched out in front of him, gray socks on his feet. Blair was next to him, his own socked feet on the coffee table. There was the requisite bowl of popcorn, liberally sprinkled with cheddar cheese powder and a nice touch of chili powder, on the couch between them and, every now and then, they'd reach in at the same time and their buttery fingers would touch._

_The lights on the tree were on, and there were several lit candles placed strategically around the loft. Overall, the atmosphere was one of comfort, safety, and warmth, the season wrapping its magic spell around both men…._

In Blair's fantasy, he'd long since told Jim how he felt… and Jim, while surprised, had happily reciprocated with his own confession of love. And of course, in this fantasy world of his, very hot sex with the typical--and very much a fantasy--multiple orgasms and Jim telling him that it had never been better with anyone, not even Carolyn, had followed the confessions.

Suddenly Blair smiled. He really did have an active imagination.

He closed his eyes and, not for the first time, wished that he'd coded his dissertation so that his mother couldn't have accessed it. He didn't know if he'd have told Jim the truth about his feelings, but he knew damn well that right now, he'd be warm and safe in his… home.

In Cascade.

With Jim.

God, if he could undo anything in his life, that moment of thoughtlessly shutting down his computer without protecting the dissertation would be it. He'd give anything to be back to that moment, to undo all that followed, to have his fucking life back.

To have Jim back.

To have Major Crime back… and his Observer Pass… and his corner of Jim's desk… and the chair they let him use and finally labeled "Hairboy's chair"….

To trade barbs with Henri, joke with Megan about her love life and snark at Rafe about his suits….

To hear Simon bellow, "Ellison, Sandburg, my office--Now!"  (okay, he rarely bellowed, but with that deep voice of his….)  And then to enter Simon's office, perch on the edge of his desk, steal one of his pastries and drive him crazy….

He wanted it all back. Every last bit of it. And he couldn't have it.

He couldn’t have it.

His gaze, softer now and full of pain, drifted back to the window. The party-goers were returning to the warmth of the restaurant and the snow, actually looking more like snow now, was still coming down. His appetite gone, he thought about making a discreet exit and heading home but any real desire to move had gone the way of his appetite. Although… hiding in his apartment right now really sounded good.

The light from the lanterns in the courtyard criss-crossed over the fountain and the tiny, sparkling lights that adorned every tree and bush gave the entire area an almost magical feel. The topiary garden now had several reindeer among the other animal-trimmed trees, and all were braided with strings of lights, thus adding to the whole fantasyland atmosphere.

A long shadow fell across the fountain and, frowning, Blair followed it to the entrance of the museum property. A tall figure stood under the shadowed archway and, for just a moment, Blair allowed himself to imagine that it was Jim, there to surprise him. The figure was tall enough, and definitely male, but of course, it was just one of the party-goers….

The figure stepped forward into the light and the snow.

Blair's eyes widened in shock.

Jim, in his long, dark coat and an overnight bag hanging from his shoulder, stood in the courtyard, white spots of snow dotting his shoulders and finding a brief home in his dark hair. He wasn't searching the crowded restaurant with his amazing sight--no need.   He'd found Blair long before reaching the entrance gate of the museum. His blue eyes were boring into him now, as he stopped just short of the fountain and gave him a wry grin.

Blair was up, party forgotten, and he quickly made his way to the door leading out onto the patio--and Jim.

He paused at the steps, more to take in the man waiting patiently, his eyes crinkling at the corners with his smile, than any other reason. Finally he took a deep, satisfied breath, exhaled slowly, and then descended the stairs and walked over to his friend.

"Hey, Chief," Jim said as Blair joined him. "Merry Christmas and Happy Hanukkah."

"Merry Christmas, Jim. And how did you--"

"A miracle, Chief, nothing short of a miracle. The case just suddenly came together with Connor and Taggart making the arrest. Once that happened, I told Simon it was California or bust."

They were standing close, Blair looking up into Jim's eyes, Jim staring down at him, a strange but beautiful, smile on his face. He reached out as if to touch Blair, but stopped just short of doing so. "I remembered your mentioning the party so when you didn't answer the door at your apartment, I walked down here."

"In the snow," Blair said with an infectious grin on his face.

Jim looked skyward and nodded. "Yeah, in the snow. Talk about small miracles."

Now was his chance--this moment--to tell Jim. He understood that in all reality, he had nothing to lose and maybe, just maybe, everything to gain.

"Jim, I'm really glad you came. Really glad… because there's something I think you should know. I'm not sure how you'll feel about it; whether it will make you happy or miserable, but the fact is--"

"I love you, Chief."

"I love you, Jim."

"What?"

"What?"

They stared at each other until Blair said, "So."

"Yeah. So."

"All this time?"

"Not _all_ this time, but for awhile. You?"

"Same. Not even sure when it happened."

"Same here. Sneaky."

Blair grinned again. "Yeah," he said softly. "Sneaky."

Blair glanced over his shoulder at the party and asked, "You hungry? There's great food in there."

Jim followed his gaze, shook his head, and, after tugging on a stray curl to get Blair's attention back, said, "You got popcorn?"

"I do."

"Do you need to stay?"

"I don't."

"Then let's go?"

"Let's."

*****

By the time they'd reached Blair's door, the snow had ended in a light rain. Once inside, Blair headed for the heater, while Jim slipped out of his coat and walked over to the small fireplace. He pulled his slacks up a bit before bending at the knees and reaching for the paper-wrapped Presto-log in the basket. He set it on the grate, picked up the lighter, flicked it on, and lit the paper at the red arrows. When it caught on both sides, he dropped the lighter back into the basket and rose back to his full height. Hand on the mantle, he watched the paper as it was slowly eaten, leaving behind the log itself.

"Great idea, man."

"Thanks. Seemed appropriate."

Blair had a towel from the kitchenette and was using it to dry the ends of his hair as he joined Jim. Smiling, he looked up and said, "So."

"Been there, done that, would like to move on to the hard stuff."

Blair couldn't help it--he looked down. Grinning, he said, "Hard stuff?"

"Who knew you had such a dirty mind, Chief."

"You did."

"Good point." He dropped his hand from the mantle and rested it briefly against Blair's cheek. "I don't want a long-distance relationship, Chief, so before I left, I checked into positions available with the Santa Ana PD. They've got a couple of interesting openings and I thought--"

He was stopped by going any further when Blair covered his mouth. Shaking his head, Blair said, "That's not the answer, Jim. Cascade is your tribe, you can't just change it like that. And don't say something utterly romantic but unrealistic like, 'But Chief, you're my tribe' because that isn't entirely accurate. You need Cascade and it needs you."

Suddenly self-conscious, he dropped his hand from Jim's mouth and said, "Sorry."

"So what's the answer then?"

"I move home. There are things I can do that don't involve--"

"You could come back to the station, Chief."

"Man, I'd like nothing better, but you know that's not possible."

"I would have thought we'd just learned that nothing's impossible. Why don't we give it a try? Just… a try."

Blair searched Jim's face, for what, he didn't have a clue, but all he could find was love and conviction. He figured that was more than enough. "I'll have to give notice--"

"And I'll join you for the drive back up--"

"We can go slower this time, maybe you could actually take a vacation--"

"I'd like to spend some time in Monterey and San Francisco, and we both love the Oregon coast--"

"Yeah, we do."

"I know exactly what you're thinking right now," Jim said, one eyebrow arched.

"Oh, yeah?" Blair challenged.

"You're thinking of all the places we can do it on the way back up to Cascade," Jim answered smugly.

Surprised, Blair leaned back. "Wow, you're right. There's this spot in Brookings Corner that just begs for hot, sweaty sex--"

Jim leaned down and, lips close to Blair's ear, whispered, "There's a spot right here in Santa Ana that just begs for hot, sweaty, first-time sex and it's right behind you, Chief."

A shiver ran down his spine because he knew exactly what was behind him--his bed. Jim started to straighten, but Blair thought they'd talked enough, so he captured Jim's face with his hands and kissed him.

It wasn't a bad first kiss, either. No, sir. As first kisses went, it was damn fine. A bit clumsy at first, what with teeth knocking into each other, but overall, yeah, damn fine.

The second, third and fourth kisses were even better, both men quick to catch on to the rhythm and needs of the other. They hadn't been friends for three years for nothing.

*****

Okay, so multiple orgasms really were a fantasy, but damn, he felt good with his two. Proud even. Prouder still of the two he'd rung out of Jim, who was now stretched out beside him, his hand resting possessively on Blair's thigh.

"And to think," Jim suddenly said, "it only took us three years to get here."

Blair debated saying what _he_ was thinking… decided not to and promptly said it anyway.

"Carolyn was a stupid woman."

Jim opened his eyes and turned his head to look at Blair, his expression soft and vulnerable. "That was… that was a mushy thing to say, Sandburg," he said, trying hard to sound gruff.

Blair rolled onto his side and cradled his head on his arm. "They were all stupid. Every last one of them, but Caro was the stupidest. She actually had you and let you go."

Jim turned his head away and looked up at the ceiling. "I sort of had _you_ \--and let you go."

"I sort of had you--and went."

"So we're both guilty as charged, but we served our time, right?"

Blair ran his hand across Jim's chest and said, "Right. But we're on probation, man. We're dangerous and really need a PO. Should we volunteer Simon for the job?"

Jim chuckled. "Oh, yeah, that'll make his day, all right. Almost as good as when I told him about my senses."

"When do you have to go back?"

"When you go back," Jim said with a mischievous grin."

Blair shot up. "What?"

"I took a kind of… leave. Sort of a vacation--open ended. Had hopes."

"Well, I'll be damned." He sank back down and stared up at the ceiling. "I can't wait to get home," he finally said. "I've wanted to lie upstairs and stare up at that skylight for ages."

"I plan on blocking that view a good part of the time."

"Yeah? Cool."

*****

Christmas Day--Santa Ana, California

Blair's apartment was softly lit, his shades up so he and Jim could enjoy the sight and sound of Christmas day traffic on Broadway. The festive bright red and green lights that adorned the buildings across the street, some winking a Merry Christmas and Happy Hanukkah, while others remained still and steadfast, simply added to the holiday feeling. Blair held a hot toddy in his hand, as did Jim, and both were in jeans and warm holiday-ish sweaters. Comfortable and lazy, Jim had his long legs stretched out in front of him, gray socks on his feet. Blair was next to him, his own socked feet on the coffee table. There was the requisite bowl of popcorn, liberally sprinkled with cheddar cheese powder and a nice touch of chili powder, on the couch between them and, every now and then, they'd reach in at the same time and their buttery fingers would touch.

The lights on the tree were on, and there were several lit candles placed strategically around the loft. Overall, the atmosphere was one of comfort, safety, and warmth… love… the season wrapping its magic spell around both men.

"Happy Hanukkah, Chief."

"Merry Christmas, Jim."

The End

 

  
**Disclaimer:** All characters from **The Sentinel** are the property of Pet Fly Productions, Danny Bilson and Paul DeMeo. Characters from any other television show, movie or book are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. No money is being made from this work. We believe the works contained in this archive to be transformative in nature and therefore protected under the 'fair use' provisions of copyright law.

This story archived at <http://asr3.slashzone.org/archive/viewstory.php?sid=1287>


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